


One Day

by WroughtBetwixt



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships, Injury, Nudity, Showers, Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-27 00:35:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WroughtBetwixt/pseuds/WroughtBetwixt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She can't make him stay away, and she's not sure she even wants to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Day

He smelled of wet dirt, and ash; he'd been in the house again.

I couldn't make him stay away from there anymore than I could make him stay away from me. Still, when I smelled the faint scent of burned wood and woke from my light, restless sleep to find him standing there, I gave him the same disapproving look I'd given him so many times before. And like all those times before, all he had to do was look at me with those haunted eyes of his, and I found myself rising from my bed and walking across my room to wrap my arms around him. This time, like the other times, he held me tightly until I thought he would crush my ribs. But just when it hurt, he stopped squeezing, merely holding me like I'd flee if he let go.

... I had, once. Only once. His bitter, almost desperate tears had brought me back. It had taken me by surprise at first, but now I'd come to expect it. He buried his face into my neck, shoulders shaking ever so slightly. Maybe he'd had nightmares again. Maybe he'd been delusional like he got sometimes, wandering back to try and find the family that had burned alive. Maybe he just needed a friend. I was more than happy to give him what he needed; he deserved companionship, despite his past. I could understand that desperation. I remembered what it was like, to be so lonely that I would do anything, give anything, just to have someone even look at me.

"Lydia," he finally whispered against my throat as his hold on me loosened. "Go back to bed."

I pulled away, noticing the way he flinched when I ran my hand over his arm. "You're hurt."

"I'll be fine. I don't want to burden you."

But I heard the question in the phrase that wasn't a question, because he would never ask. I caught his eyes and held the gaze; he relaxed into my hands as I reached up and held his face in them, closing his eyes as I slipped off his jacket and dropped it to the floor. He didn't protest as I unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and gently inspect the deep puncture wounds in his arms. Derek. So, they'd had a fight again. I looked up at Peter, and this time he avoided my gaze. Without a word, I led him to my bed, touching his shoulder in a silent command; he sat, and I kneeled down to remove his shoes.

When that was done I stepped back, offering a hand. He took it and stood, finally looking at me as I drew close to him. He was taller than me, older than me, stronger than me and more dangerous than anyone I could imagine... yet when I put one hand on his bare chest, he was the one to shiver. When I reached for his belt, undoing it and tugging at his pants, he placed one hand over mine; we didn't have to speak much anymore, with so many of our words revealed in action, but this time he wanted words.

"You need a shower," I said. "I'm not letting you in my bed smelling like a barbeque."

"Your mother," he replied. "She's not going to be happy to wake up to her daughter stripping some old man."

A smile tugged at my lips. "We're alone. She won't be back for days."

We caught each others eyes again. I knew what he was thinking, because I was thinking it, too. We shouldn't be doing this. He was dangerous. It was wrong. But he looked away first, and now relieved of his filthy clothes, I took his hand and led him to the shower. I slipped my nightgown off, stepping into the steaming hot water with him; we'd already seen each other naked before, and there was no shame in it. The heat soothed us both, made it easier to relax against each other, hands stroking away sweat and dirt. By the time we made it back to bed, the water had run cold; we curled together under the blankets, waiting for the winter chill in the bed to ease back into warmth now that it was occupied once more.

I hadn't been alone with him before. Not since... My mother had finally felt like she could leave me by myself, and she took a much-needed vacation to the beach. What would she do if she knew that the monster that had hurt her daughter so much, had broken her and left a cold, defensive shell, was laying in her bed? What would she do if she knew that the monster was the only thing that made her daughter feel alive, whole, like something made sense? It was a sad truth. He had driven me insane and now, with me nuzzled under his chin and his arm draped around my waist, I felt thin, delicate threads holding us both together. The threads had been getting stronger. Maybe one day, the threads would feel like iron shackles. Maybe one day I would regret relying on those threads to be sane again.

But it wasn't that day, not yet.


End file.
